


The Chains of Night

by DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Disaster, Blood and Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor/pseuds/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor
Summary: 2000 years after the original Arthurian legends, Albion sits awaiting the return of King Arthur and Merlin. Prophecy speaks of a war to come, a war that will destroy all that once was.
Relationships: Aneurin Pace/Rhys Pendragon, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	The Chains of Night

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an original work of mine, rough draft.

Aneurin Pace stood outside of the testing chamber, the two double doors seeming to loom over him. He released his fists that had been balled up at his sides and shook his wrists out. _I can do this._ He thought. The words felt hollow in his own chest, futile, like throwing a stick at a man who was drowning in the middle of the ocean. He looked over his shoulder at the corridor behind him that felt as if it were drowning him. Shadowy figures made their way through different doors, it had taken a while to get used to those figures who seemed to not care where they went. Nimue had once told him that they were ancient beings, here even before the Nine Daughters.  


One shadowy figure floated past Aneurin and through the wall and presumably into the room beyond. After nearly sixteen years on Avalon, he’d grown used to them and almost come to think of them as friends. As sad as that was. He was almost sad knowing he wouldn’t be seeing them again. That familiar waves of sadness sank into his chest. _Don’t worry about that._ He thought. _That_ thought actually went through and he turned back around the tall doors. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, trying to center himself. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He was prepared for this. He knew he was.

He let out a shaky breath and pushed open one of the heavy doors and stepped in. Nimue, as well as the other Sisters of Avalon, Morgan, Morgause and Ygraine were waiting for him. The testing chamber was a large circular room, the lower level was where the test took place, the upper level of the room was a balcony that no one was sure how to get to. The Sisters had been vague in their answers, saying that its not important. Aneurin looked up and he could see the shadowy figures floating around the circular balcony. Some were paused and he wondered if they could see him, if they were watching him.

“Good, you’re early.” Nimue’s voice brought his attention in front of him. Nimue’s reddish-brown hair had been braided and she wore a deep green dress. She wore a silver headband so thin, Aneurin wondered how it never broke. The other three Sisters wore the same headband, each one’s dress was a different color. Ygraine wore red, Aneurin had asked if it was because of her connection to Camelot and to that she had responded with a thoughtful smile that had sadness on the very edges of it. Nimue was the only one who had retained memories of the time of King Arthur. Since the other three had returned to the island after death, their memories of their mortals lives seemed distant.

Morgan wore white and Morgause a deep blue. She smiled at Aneurin as he came into the room, her curly blonde hair falling at her shoulders. Morgan and Ygraine treated him to a polite yet cold nod. Aneurin wondered what the remembered of the age of King Arthur but he didn’t suspect it was good. If Morgan and Ygraine’s nods were cold then Nimue’s made theirs look like warm smiles and hugs.

As Aneurin approached, he bowed to her, as was customary. “I know better than to be late.” Aneurin said straightening.

“Good. It is imperative that your clock runs earlier than the prince’s.” She said.

Aneurin held back a grimace, from the way she spoke of it, it sounded as if Aneurin was going to be the prince’s manservant rather than Court Sorcerer. Prince Rhys Pendragon had specifically sent an emissary to Avalon, citing that the position of Court Sorcerer will be reopened. Nimue had told Aneurin that he would be leaving the island to serve King Uther and his son. “It is a time honored position.” She had said. “One that has not been held in nearly five hundred years.”

“Why’s that?” Aneurin had asked.

“The Pendragon’s relationship to magic is not as it once was, Aneurin.” She had said, for a moment she had stared out the window that looked out onto the seemingly endless lake. “So much has changed.” Aneurin hadn’t been sure if she had meant for him to hear that but he didn’t respond.

“This test, is this like the test that I was given?” Aneurin asked.

“No.” Nimue began, stepping past him. Her hand glowed a light silver and with a brief flick, the room around them changed. The room squared out and behind Aneurin, a dais formed, and a large throne appeared. In front of the dais, the crest of the Pendragon family appeared, a gold lion on a field of scarlet. “You stand in the throne room of Camelot, study it. Memorize the ways to enter and exit. Know the ways that people can come in and attack.” She strode towards him, “You are Court Sorcerer, you hold the power to protect them in way the knights cannot.” She said.

“I’m a bodyguard?” Aneurin asked.

“If we wish to simplify it, yes. But you are to educate the prince on dealings with the Fay.”

Aneurin shuddered, “Surely you don’t think that the Fay would—”

“Times are different, Aneurin. Who knows what the opening of this position means.” She said turning away from him. Aneurin turned in place, to his left were windows that stretched up to the high ceilings, large rays of sunlight shined through. Towards the rear of the dais was a doorway, Aneurin walked across the platform and opened the door and yelled out. The door opened to darkness, he jumped backwards and the door slammed in front of him.

 _A bodyguard?_ Aneurin wondered as he made his way back to the throne and for the second time, he jumped. It was occupied. The man in the throne looked to be no more than three years older than Aneurin. His hair was a pale blond, combed neatly as it came to his shoulders. “This is Prince Rhys.” Nimue said behind him. For a moment, Aneurin had forgotten she’d been there. He’d been busy staring at the handsome prince. Even sitting down, Aneurin could tell that he was tall. His clothes were fitted to the muscular body underneath. Aneurin’s eyes drifted to the way the shirt was fitted across his broad chest and shoulders.

He looked every inch the picture of what a prince should be. A gold crown sat on his head, Aneurin wondered if it was the very crown King Arthur had worn thousands of years ago. Though the stories alleged King Arthur would live on Avalon until his return, the Sisters had been quick to deny it. They explained that he was buried in Cornwall, on the ground of the castle he’d been born in before moving to Camelot.

Aneurin realized the corner of his mouth had turned upwards. He’d always loved the stories of brave knights that he’d read as a child. He remembered warm summer afternoons on the banks of Avalon reading about King Arthur and the brave men who followed him into peril and the swooning ladies they saved. As he got older, he found himself putting himself in the place of those women. Imagining the strong arms of a man around him, protecting him. Then the innocence faded from his imaginings as he pictured the strong, muscled body of a man above him as they fucked.

He was broken from his thoughts with a flash of blue light and Rhys’s eyes widened, he spit out a mouthful of blood as a blade was ripped from his chest. Rhys choked out another trickle of blood before slumping forward and falling out of the throne, his head slamming against the stone dais, blood spilling from his mouth. Aneurin stared at the scene numb, his eyes wide with shock. Someone snapped their fingers nearby and the image of Rhys dead vanished and the regal image of the prince reappeared on the throne.

“You have cost the prince his life.” Nimue’s voice broke through his shock. The woman’s eyes were furious. “Was it worth it to look at his attractive face?”

“The-it was so quiet I didn’t know.” Aneurin cringed at how pathetic he had sounded.

“I’m sorry, would you have liked a warning beforehand? Perhaps a letter announcing an attempt will be made on the prince’s life?” She asked.

“Of course not! I’m not a bodyguard, Nimue.”

“No?”

“No! I was trained so that I could serve the people of Avalon and—”

Nimue stepped forward, “No.” She cut him off. “You were trained to serve Camelot.”

“But you—”

“Do you know where you found you, Aneurin?” She continued without waiting for him to answer. “In the burned ruins of what was once your village. Do you remember?” She asked. A faint memory returned to him, it was a brief flash of a burned out home. Had it been him? The faint smell of acrid smoke appeared in his nostrils and was gone as soon as it had come. “You are the last of your kind, Aneurin. The future of the Druids are in your hands.”

Aneurin’s eyes widened, “And you’re choosing now to tell me this?”

“It has never been important until this moment. And I thought you were trained better than to talk back like some impetuous child.” She said. Aneurin’s mouth closed with a click and he lowered his eyes. “The Druids’ relationship with Camelot is an ancient one, dating back before the days of King Arthur. True, it has waned in some time but that does not mean that we cannot revive that relationship. It is important for you to uphold that legacy.” She said. “Now, protect your prince.”

At the opposite end of the room, a blueish white figure appeared, it held a longsword and charged towards Rhys. Aneurin threw his hand up and one of the tiles in the path of the figure rose from the ground, tripping the figure and sending it spiraling to the ground. The sword flew out its hands and faded into mist before it hit the ground. Aneurin felt his magic surge in him as the figure suddenly was thrust upwards, black cords pinning its arms to its side and binding its ankles. He let the figure drop to the floor. Its impact was quiet but the grunt from Rhys was not.

Aneurin turned and saw the prince’s throat being cut by a blue-white knife. “Theatrics. While lovely, are costly.” Nimue said as scarlet blood poured from Rhys’s throat. Aneurin watched the figure vanish and he was left, once again, with the image of a regal Rhys and an empty throne room. “Vigilance is key.” Nimue’s voice sounded from somewhere. Where had she gone?

Aneurin didn’t realize how much he was shaking. Even though the image of Rhys wasn’t real, that image of life leaving his eyes flashed in Aneurin’s head, even as he staggered towards the front of the dais. _Vigilance._ He thought turning in place, looking at the door behind the dais and then back at the throne room in front of him. _Vigilance._ He thought shutting his eyes and letting his magic fill him. When he had first arrived on Avalon, he had been taught a simple exercise when accessing his magic.

_“There are those who can access magic like you, Aneurin,” Ygraine said as she seated herself on the garden bench in front of him. She was wearing a bright yellow dress and her pale blond hair was loose. She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “When I was a little girl, I was thought that there are those who know that their magic is there but can never access it. Those who can access it but only in certain situations.” A small, sad smile appeared on his face, “My son could do that in battle. It was how he’d been able to build such a fearsome reputation in battle.”_

_“I don’t want to be a warrior.” Aneurin said, hugging his knees to his chest._

_“You will be a protector, Aneurin.” She said. “Now, close your eyes.” He did. “Imagine a hallway, can you do that?” Aneurin nodded. He was standing before a cobblestoned hallway, the wall lined with unlit torches. As the vision became stronger in his mind, the torches flared to life. “Can you seem something at the end of the hallway?”_

_The end of the hallway seemed so far away, Aneurin figured that if he tried to run down that hallway, he’d never find the end. The vision faded and Aneurin opened his eyes. “I can’t.”_

_“Try again.” Ygraine’s voice was patient yet firm. Aneurin wished he had more lessons with her rather than Nimue. He had once asked Ygraine if he could only train with her but she only gave him that familiar sad smile and told him that it had to be Nimue._

_‘But why?’ He had asked. ‘Because that’s what must be and we cannot ignore what has been set my prophecy’ And she hadn’t expanded on that._

_Aneurin shut his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back as he stood in front of the lit hallway. Something appeared at the end of the hallway, Aneurin couldn’t tell what it was for sure, it was just a large shape. Beneath him in the garden, he could feel the grass under his hands, the smell of the flowers nearby as his magic began to curl inside him. Aneurin took a step forward and he could hear the crackling of the fire as the torches burned next to him. He reached out and gasped as his fingers brushed against the rough stone wall._

_It was strange, he was in two places at one time. He continued down the hallway, his heart racing in his chest as his magic began to trickle through him. He could hear the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore and the buzzing of nearby bees. In the hallway, his bare feet sounded against the cold stones. He looked down the hallway again and he stood before two large wooden doors. There was an iron bar that vanished at his touch._

_His magic pulsed inside of him as he reached for the large, round knob. Something inside of him yearned for more. His magic was filling his body, the feeling of power and its potential just behind that door. All he needs to do was open the door and—_

_“Stop!” Nimue’s voice broke him from the hallway and he was back in the garden. His heightened senses dulling as the red-haired woman made her way towards them._

_“Sister, I—”_

_“Leave.” Nimue said. Ygraine looked to Aneurin then to Nimue and stood up._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Aneurin was able to catch the words as Ygraine passed Nimue, “Remember what we saw.”_

Aneurin trained only with Nimue after that. He’d never been allowed to access that hallway again. Nimue never explained why he wasn’t allowed, only claimed that it was dangerous and the magic Ygraine had been taught was not proper. She had never told him what they had seen but he hadn’t been too surprised about this. His life on Avalon had been plagued with secrecy from the Four Sisters. He didn’t know why Nimue feared him finding what was beyond that door. _It had just been a harmless lesson, right?_ He had wondered at one point.

He kept that exercise but never went down that far again, instead he imagined the hallway ending in a brick wall. It avoided Nimue’s anger and still allowed him to access his magic. After doing it for nearly fifteen years, it was an unconscious gesture, like breathing. As he stood in the fake throne room, he heard behind him the door open. It was easy to miss but Aneurin had heard the sound of wood brushing against wood and he turned and threw his hand forward. The door to the throne room slammed shut as a bluish white figure stood in the doorway. A wooden beam fell into the hooks of the door, barring it shut.

Aneurin exhaled and turned as the door behind the dais flew open and three bluish white figures stormed in. His magic pulsed inside of him and he ran forward and swept his hands forward, sending the three figures flying backwards against the wall. Ropes bound their bodies as Aneurin turned back around it time to stop an arrow flying towards Rhys from a crossbow. It disintegrated in midair as Aneurin leapt from the dais, landed nearly in the center of the room. _Where had it come from?_ Aneurin wondered.

A nearby tapestry fluttered and the assassin with the crossbow revealed itself and shot another one. The metal bearings at the top of the tapestry gave way and knocked the assassin in the head. The arrow was knocked out of the air by Aneurin. Panting, he staggered slightly, the three assassins pinned to the wall had vanished. “Sloppy.” Nimue appeared behind Rhys’ throne, a silver blade in his hand.

Aneurin threw his hands out and Nimue yelled out as the blade dropped to the floor. Aneurin froze in place, he’d never attacked Nimue before. She regarded him with cold fury and suddenly he screamed out as white-hot pain replaced the euphoric rush of his magic. He dropped to his knees hard enough that he would’ve felt the holt of pain but he only felt Nimue’s anger.

His entire body felt like it was on fire as Nimue approached him, “You will never use your magic against me, Aneurin.”

Panting, sweat beaded down the side of his head, Aneurin tried to get his words out but moving his body was near impossible. Finally she released him and his entire body felt cold as he collapsed to the floor. He tried to take a deep breath but his chest felt as if a vice was around it. His entire body shook violently as the white-hot heat pulsed inside of him. Each pulse sent another wave of pain through him, hot tears stung at his eyes.

“Weakness.” She picked up the dagger, “Cannot be allowed. Not if you are to do what you must.” She said. Aneurin sought out his magic, something to ease the pain but nothing came. “If you can be put down by my magic, then—”

“Am I to fight you then?”

A small smile curled her lips, “You would lose, Aneurin.”

Aneurin looked up at her, something else replaced the pulsing pain, hatred. Deep seeded hatred. It bubbled in him, churning in his stomach as she turned away from him. She stabbed Rhys once in the chest, right into his heart. The prince’s eyes widened and he died. She removed the dagger. “Heal yourself and try again.” He didn’t move. “Did you hear what I said?” She asked as the image of Rhys reappeared.

“Yes.” Aneurin said through gritted teeth. Cold swam through him as he healed himself, he shuddered as it all faded, the hatred and the lingering feelings of pain. When it had all vanished, he was left only empty. He looked at Nimue who made the dagger vanish in a small puff of mist.

“Now, we begin again.” She said as the doors behind Aneurin slammed open.

When Aneurin finally shut the door to his chambers, the sun had fully set and every bone in his body was sore. He sighed softly as he made his way to his bed and sat down. He bent down and unlaced his boots and pulled them off. His eyelids drooped slightly as he sat back up, he rubbed his eyes and groaned. He was hungry but he made no effort to ring the servants to bring food up to his chambers, nor did he want to go downstairs and find it for himself. He held out his hand, opened himself up to his magic and winced at the pulse of dull pain he felt as his hand closed around a red apple.

He bit into the crisp fruit, savoring the sweet taste of the apple. It was said that the orchards of Avalon were a gift from the Mother Goddess Herself. When the Nine Sorceresses found the isle of Avalon thousands of years earlier, one had prayed to the Mother Goddess for a gift and an apple seed fell from the sky and the first apple tree grew on Avalon. They were never sold to the mainland of Albion because there was magic in them allegedly. Aneurin took another bite, if there was magic, he couldn’t taste it.

Wiping his sticky fingers on his trousers, Aneurin got up and went into the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. He caught sight on himself in the mirror and winced. His ribs had gotten prominent again, he reminded himself to eat more. His black hair was messy from the testing and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. Being a bodyguard to a prince hadn’t exactly been what Aneurin had wanted but at least it would get him off Avalon. Seventeen years of his life had been spent on the isle and when the emissary from Camelot returned to the isle, he’d be leaving with him.

Aneurin turned from the mirror and stepped into the shower, the tub was made of polished iron, under his feet was the emblem of Avalon, four golden women in silhouette gathered underneath an apple tree painted gold as well. Above him was a square panel that glowed a soft blue light, Aneurin reached up and slid his fingers across the panel until half of it glowed a bright purple. The purple light faded as warm water showered from the panel above him. Aneurin sighed underneath the stream of water.

Next to him in the wall were two small alcoves, he reached his hand into one and there was a soft whirring noise and soap was deposited into his hand. Normally it smelled of apples but this time Aneurin caught a whiff of something he couldn’t quite place though it seemed very familiar to him. It was a sweet smell, nothing he’d encountered on Avalon. _Strange._ He thought as he rubbed it onto his body. He then realized how ridiculous he sounded. _It’s soap. Goddess, I’m tired._ He thought rinsing the soap off of his body. He reached into the second alcove and rubbed the shampoo he got from there into his hair and washed that out as well.

He lingered under the warm water, wondering if they had these in Albion as well. _I hope so._ He’d read that Camelot was the center of new developments in terms of mixing magic and technology. Nimue and the others had thought it disgraceful, “Magic is a gift and to see it disgraced like that.” Morgan had once said with a shake of her head.

Aneurin didn’t know how he felt about it, on the one hand, he should side with the Sisters of Avalon because they had taught him that same ideology, magic was a gift from the Mother Goddess and the Father God and that to taint it like that was like spitting in their faces. On the other side of that argument, Aneurin thought back to the time of the First Cycle, near the end of it, when it was said that the world no longer believed in magic, that their buildings were just metal and wood. There was many things from the First Age that made Aneurin curious. It was said they could fly in strange metallic containers and that their world was powered by something like magic only it was manmade, according the the texts.

There wasn’t much about the First Cycle, a lot of the world had been destroyed in the years after the First Cycle and the Second Cycle. The Sisters refused to speak of what happened but the little they told him spoke of an act so evil that it destroyed the world. Aneurin hadn’t been surprised they kept that from him as well, they seemed to be good at that.

He reached up and touched the panel, sliding his fingers the opposite way as the panel’s color faded to the soft blue light. The water stopped and Aneurin shivered slightly as he grabbed a towel hanging nearby. After drying himself and wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped back into his bedroom to see a dark figure lighting a fire in the fireplace. It vanished once the fire roared to life and Aneurin heard the clink of silverware, a dark figure set a tray of food down on the desk across from his bed.

“Thank you.” He said. But there was no response. There never was. The dark figure just slowly sank into the nearby wall, leaving Aneurin alone. The fire crackled in the fireplace as he sat down ate hungrily ate his dinner. The soup was a deliciously thick broth with spices and a flatbread from the Indian Empire in the east.

As he sat and chewed on the bread, Aneurin wondered if he would get to see the world far beyond Albion. He’d heard the First Wanderers in the West had pyramids dedicated to their gods that stretched towards their sky. Cities of their tents filled with their songs and prayers in the night. The Northmen who lived through the coldest nights and prayed to their own gods who glorified blood and sacrifice. There was so much to see, he sighed and pushed the tray away. He’d spent sixteen years of his life on an island, with barely any memories of the life he’d had before this. Now he would spend his life in Camelot under the service of the Pendragons.

He was torn between being grateful for being the one to uphold the tradition but at the same time, everything in his life have been out of his own control. He looked back at the tray, his appetite vanishing. He pushed his chair back, shivering slightly in the night chill. He pulled on a long white shirt that went down to just above his knees and shut the window after getting a glimpse of the lake. On the other side was Albion and his future. He sighed and climbed into bed, the exhaustion from the day washing over him.


End file.
